


Spring Training

by sarahbeniel



Series: You Bring the Sun [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, First Dates, First Kiss, Fluff, Humor, Texting, WinterShock - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-12
Updated: 2019-04-12
Packaged: 2020-01-11 19:19:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18430436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarahbeniel/pseuds/sarahbeniel
Summary: Bucky works up the nerve (sorta) to ask Darcy out for coffee.





	Spring Training

**Author's Note:**

> Nothing particularly fresh or original here, but my brain wouldn't shut up about it, so I just had to dump it out so I could stop being distracted by it and get back to my WIPs. I also saw it as an opportunity to see if I could write anything that's not either a) long-winded AF, or b) gloomy AF. I think I succeeded on b); not so sure about a)... I was hoping to keep it under 5k and that... didn't happen.
> 
> I rated this T, but be aware that there's a fair amount of the F word within, because... soldiers, and Darcy. If you're on the fence about it, it may help to know that the F word in its many forms appears a total of 18 times over 8.5k words, so eh... not too bad.  
> 

\--------

“No matter how long the winter, spring is sure to follow.” -African proverb

\--------

It started with a napkin. 

That girl from the labs— Darcy was her name, according to Steve— had been sitting at the table next to them, talking and laughing with some of the interns from R&D while she ate her lunch— if that’s what you wanted to call the poor excuse for food that she had on her tray… 

He’d watched as she’d mowed her way through three of those single-serving bags of Cheetos that were always sold out of the vending machines, and now she was sipping on an extra-large iced coffee that looked like it had as much cream and caramel in it as anything else, and Bucky’d been pretending not to notice the way her lips closed around the wide plastic straw in between giggles and salty-mouthed exclamations like ‘ _he fuckin’ didn’t_ ’ and ‘ _get the fuck out of town_ ’ and ‘ _he can kiss my sweaty ass_.’ 

That last one had him thinking about said ass, which he’d noticed over the last week-and-a-half of covert observation was probably the finest he’d seen around the compound, and that included the female members of the strike team, whose high-performance nylon-spandex tac pants left little to the imagination. 

He’d thought he’d been doing a passable job of watching-without-watching, until she stood up with her friends, threading her curvy body between their two tables as she carried her tray of empty chip bags in one hand and her gigantic coffee in the other, when a napkin that she’d left on the tray got caught on a stray air current, sailed off the tray like a paper airplane, and drifted to the floor behind her. 

It was instinct, more than anything— he saw it happening, saw her turn, her face saying, “ _Aw, shit_ ,” as clear as if she’d said it aloud, not wanting to litter so blatantly, but frustrated, because her hands were full, and was she _really_ gonna have to set it all down just to— 

Without thinking, he jumped out of his seat and bent down to grab it for her, putting it back on her tray with a quick flick of his eyes to her face, which registered surprise and then something else he couldn’t immediately identify, but maybe would have called _flirtatious_ if it hadn’t been directed toward _him_... 

“Thanks, soldier,” she said, with a big friendly grin, showing off the gap in her teeth, and his heart skipped a beat, thinking at first that she’d meant _Soldier_ — with a capital S— wondering what she knew about him, what she’d heard—until she quickly followed it up with, “It’s James, right?” 

“Yeah,” he said gruffly, even though nobody called him ‘ _James_ ’— it sounded stiff and wrong, like something a doctor would say when flipping through a chart, but he didn’t want the first thing he said to her to be a criticism, so he just stood there and cleared his throat, feeling like an idiot, staring at her, nothing to say, but not knowing how to escape, either. 

_The fuckin’ Winter Soldier— completely hamstrung by a five-foot-four girl with a pretty smile._

“Well, thanks again, James,” she said, with another flirty grin, and then flounced back around, jogging to catch up with her friends, who were waiting for her by the door, and who immediately began to rib her as soon as she rejoined them. She dumped her trash and put the tray on top of the bin, and he was still standing there, watching, when she turned her head around to look back once, on her way out the door. 

Wilson, sitting at their table behind him, had witnessed the whole sorry spectacle, including, no doubt, the way Bucky’s eyes had dropped to the swing of her ass as she’d sauntered away, and the mischievous smile on her lips when she’d looked back. 

“Hooo-boy,” the man said, purposely loud enough that the guys at the adjacent table looked up to see what the deal was, and Bucky scowled as he sat back down. “You’re in trouble now, Barnes.” 

Wilson was positively jubilant, chortling in glee, and he elbowed Barton, who was still engrossed in the pornographic flip-book that’d been making the rounds of the team for the past thirty-six hours, ever since Mason’d found it abandoned in the women’s locker-room. 

“Huh?” he said now, looking up. “What’d I miss?” 

“Barnes,” said Wilson, smugly, rubbing it in. “Checkin’ out that lab girl’s ass. I’m surprised, really. Didn’t know Mr. Cold-as-Ice had it in him.” 

“You mean Lewis?” said Barton, and it pissed Bucky off that the man knew right away who Wilson’d been talking about, even though he hadn’t looked up once during the entire lunch break. Maybe Bucky hadn’t been as subtle as he’d thought. The possibility bothered him. A lot. 

“Yeah,” said Wilson. “Shoulda seen the look she gave him, too.” 

“Oh yeah?” said Barton. “What’d it say?” 

_Yeah_ , thought Bucky, in spite of himself. _What did it say_. 

“Let’s just say she wasn’t tellin’ him to keep his eyes to himself. Maybe not his hands, neither.” 

“Better watch it, Barnes,” said Barton, as he went back to the flip-book. “I heard she tased Hammond in the balls.” 

“Yeah?” he said. “Why’d she do that?” He was shuffling his fingers through the dregs of the shitty institutional french fries, now gone cold. He ate them anyway, and then wiped his hands on his napkin and balled it up, tossing it onto the tray as he leaned back in the cheap cafeteria chair. 

“Word is, he got a little fresh when he was droppin’ her off after a date,” said Barton. “Wouldn’t take the hint, so she gave him a better one.” 

“What kinda girl takes a taser on a date?” said Wilson. 

“Smart one,” Bucky found himself saying, meaning it, and then added, a little sourly, “Don’t know why she’s wastin’ her time with a knucklehead like that, anyway.” 

“Shit,” said Wilson, elbowing Barton again. “You seein’ this? Guy’s jealous already and he ain’t even asked the girl out yet.” He was shaking his head now. “Trouble, Barnes. So much trouble.” 

“Fuck off,” he said, picking up his tray as he stood up. He could still hear Wilson chuckling behind him as he walked away, and he dumped his garbage, tray and all, straight into the opening on the trash bin on the way out. 

Barton was working the flip book again, cackling as he watched the lewd images come to life, and Sam grabbed it from him, complaining, “Gimme that thing. You been hoggin’ it all morning.” 

   

<<>>

   

“What do you know about Barnes,” said Darcy, going for nonchalance, as she doodled little whirlpools and figure-eights idly in the margin of the printout she was supposed to be copyediting. 

“You mean, formerly-Sergeant Barnes?” answered Jane, looking up from her tablet. “Steve’s friend?” 

“You know anyone else named ‘Barnes’ around here?” 

“Well, there’s that guy from accounting… isn’t his name Barnes?” 

“You mean the creep with the bad hair and the tragic baggy-ass pants who talks to my tits every time we cross paths?” Her pen stopped moving as she looked up at her friend. “And by the way, his name isn’t ‘Barnes’; it’s ‘Baines.’” 

Jane just looked at her like, ‘ _Well_?’ 

Darcy rolled her eyes. “Gee, Jane, which one do you _think_ I’m asking about? Creepy McCreepster accountant guy, or the smoking hot super-soldier with the cool metal arm and the ass that launched a thousand ships?” 

“That figure of speech totally doesn’t work when you change it to ‘ _ass_ ’,” said Jane. “It makes it sound like he’s farting the ships off to sea.” 

Darcy raised her eyebrows. “How _dare_ you,” she said, in mock-seriousness. “Have you even _seen_ his ass in those tac pants? Apparently not, or you wouldn’t be dorking out on the correctness of my metaphor. You’d be nodding your head and agreeing with my ass-worship.” 

“It’s not a metaphor,” said Jane, making Darcy roll her eyes. “And anyway, how would I know you weren’t talking about... _Baines_?” She said the name emphatically, just to prove she’d been paying attention. “You’ve dated some pretty weird people in the past few years...” 

“ _Janey_ …” 

“Okay, okay… I might know some things… What do you want to know?” 

“I dunno; all the normal stuff, like is he nice; does he like girls; is he dating anyone?” 

“I don’t know about the last two, but from what I’ve seen and heard, I guess I could say he’s nice. I mean, as much as a guy whose life revolves around the expert wielding of guns and knives can be characterized as ‘ _nice_ ’…” 

“Anything else?” 

“I mean, I’ve only been around him a couple times, when he was getting something done to the arm in Tony’s shop. He was… ‘ _shy_ ’ isn’t really the right word… ‘Quiet’ maybe? Polite.” 

“Hmm…” said Darcy. She’d gone back to doodling. 

“Thor’s only said good things about him,” supplied Jane helpfully. “Like that he’s a ‘ _good man_ ,’ and a ‘ _fine warrior_.’ You gonna ask him out?” 

“Maybe. He seems kinda nervous. I don’t wanna scare him off. You know how I can come on kind of… strong…” 

“You do know he’s like a former World-War-two sniper turned stone-cold assassin, and that half the recruits pee their pants when he walks by, right?” said Jane. “You really think you’re gonna scare him?” 

“I thought you said he was polite? Why is he making people piss themselves?” 

Jane chuckled. “I don’t know. Thor thinks it’s funny. I guess because he’s such a nice guy, but everyone’s scared of him anyway.” 

Darcy’s forehead wrinkled. “That doesn’t sound funny to me. Seems kind of sad. Today in the cafeteria, he looked like he wanted to… flee.” 

“Maybe it’s love at first sight,” said Jane, totally serious. She stuck a stick of celery in her mouth and started crunching on it, loudly. 

“How can it be love at first sight, if he’s been watching me for weeks?” 

“Wait, he’s been watching you for weeks?” Jane was talking around the celery, but Darcy could still make sense of her garbled pronunciation. 

“Okay, that may be an exaggeration,” she said. “I’ve only noticed him watching me for about the past nine days. He might’ve been looking even before then, but in a sneakier way…” 

“You sure he’s watching you in that kind of way? Maybe he’s just paranoid.” 

“Pretty sure,” said Darcy. “He checked out my ass when I was walking away.” 

“Well, that doesn’t mean anything,” said Jane. “You’ve got the best ass in the compound. Next to your potential boyfriend’s, apparently.” 

“True,” said Darcy. “But I know what I saw, and he was… nervous. Like, cute-awkward. You know how that’s my kryptonite, and combined with a face like his…” She slumped back in her chair. “Jesus. I might have to knock off early and go spend some… personal time in my room…” 

Jane snickered and started working on another piece of celery. “Maybe he’s just… out of practice. Wasn’t he supposed to be, like, a natural with the ladies? I mean, what if he hasn’t dated anyone since…” 

“1945? God, that’s sad.” Darcy was staring into space now, thinking about it. 

“Yeah,” said Jane, sighing. “It must be hard, after everything he’s been through.” 

“Yeah, that too,” agreed Darcy. 

Jane started laughing again. “Wait, what were _you_ thinking of?” 

“The tragedy of that beautiful mouth going to waste.” She let out a dramatic, careworn sigh. “Maybe he could use a little nudge in the right direction.” 

“Key word being ‘ _nudge_ ’,” said Jane, her voice stern. “As in, _gently_. I’ve seen your ways, and now that I’ve been persuaded by your hypothesis that the man might be nervous, I’m feeling weirdly protective of him.” She pressed her lips together and then released them, letting out her own sigh. “But I think you should go for it.” 

When Darcy grinned, Jane immediately added, raising her voice, “But go easy! Don’t terrify the super-soldier.” 

“How do you know he’s not gonna terrify _me_?” said Darcy. “Like, with feelings and stuff?” She’d meant it to be a joke, but somehow it didn’t come out that way. 

“Aw,” said Jane, and she put down the last stick of celery instead of biting into it. “That would be the sweetest terror ever. I’m gonna get all gooey now, thinking about it.” 

“You?” said Darcy, raising her eyebrows. “Gooey? Please…” 

“Hey, I may never get to live those first-time tingles again, so let me experience them vicariously through you, okay?” 

“I’m gonna remind you that you said this, when I’m actually all lovesick and annoying, you know.” 

“Do your worst,” said Jane, and bit into the celery finally. “It’ll be worth it.” 

   

<<>>

   

 _Thwack_ — pause  
_Thwack_ — pause  
_Thwack_ — pause  


Bucky and Steve were in the gym, tossing around the largest medicine ball— the 100-pounder— like a father and son playing catch, throwing it back and forth, trying to trip each other up by shifting distance or trajectory just before releasing it. So far, neither of them had missed. 

And then Steve paused a little longer on his turn, delaying his throw just long enough to toss out some words as casually as he then flung the ball back to his friend a second later: “So I heard you were checking out Jane Foster’s friend… Darcy?” 

_THUMP_. 

The ball got Bucky right in the gut, and he staggered a little even as he managed to hang onto it, gasping as he struggled to catch his breath. Steve grinned. 

“You’re like… like a buncha fuckin’ women, the lotta you,” said Bucky, as he wound up his return, still recovering from the blow. “You have a girls’ night or somethin’? Get all the latest gossip?” 

_Thwack_. 

Steve caught the ball easily, and returned it just as quickly. “Whyn’t you ask her out?” 

_Thwack_. 

“Yeah, and where’m I gonna take her? Huh? Dinner in the cafeteria? Stroll around the running track?” 

_Thwack_. 

Steve was silent, so Bucky added, “Not like I can take her to the pictures or nothin’.” 

_Thwack_. 

Noting that Bucky hadn’t bothered to deny the _desire_ to take the girl out, he said, “Why not? You always liked goin’ to the pictures.” 

_Thwack_. 

Bucky held onto the ball this time, panting a little, and stopped to wipe the sweat off his forehead with the hem of his athletic shirt. “Yeah, _before_.” He’d said the word almost derisively. “Jesus, Stevie, come on. Can you picture me in a movie theater? All those entrances and exits, all around the room? Openings up above, behind us? Shadowy figures in front ’n’ behind? Music cranked up loud, can’t hear what’s happenin’ two feet away?” 

“Yeah, all right,” conceded Steve. He made ‘ _come on_ ’ hands to Bucky, asking him to throw the ball back. 

_Thwack_. 

“Don’t have to be anything like that,” he said, still pressing. “Just buy her a coffee or somethin’. If she likes you, she won’t care what you’re doin’. Just hang out. Give her a chance to get to know you better.” 

_Thwack_. 

“Get to know me better,” echoed Bucky. “Right. Like how good a shot I am at three thousand meters? Or maybe my kill count in Chechnya? Girls love that…” 

_Thwack_. 

“I’m sure she already knows some of your… history,” said Steve. “She’s not stupid. What’s the worst that could happen?” 

_Thwack_. 

“You seriously askin’ me that?” 

_Thwack_. 

Steve didn’t reply, so Bucky elaborated. “Maybe… maybe if I don’t wind up hurtin’ her, maybe I’ll find out what I already know… that I ain’t cut out for this kinda stuff no more.” 

_Thwack_. 

“Bullshit you aren’t,” countered Steve, his voice even. 

_Thwack_. 

“Maybe you’ll find out you _are_ ,” he continued, “and that’s what’s really scarin’ you.” 

_Thwack_. 

Bucky held onto the ball again, circling around a little as he tried to think of what to say, how to convey to Steve that this was a terrible idea, for so many reasons, but all he could think of was how bright her smile had been when she’d thanked him, how cute that little gap in her teeth was, and how he’d like to know what those lips felt like, pressing into his… 

“I get it, Buck, believe me,” said Steve, his voice a bit more gentle now, less teasing. “I know it’s easier, not puttin’ yourself out there. But she’s a nice girl. I’ve talked to her, a bunch of times. Smart, too.” He mopped the sweat off his own forehead and gestured for the ball again. 

_Thwack_. 

“Just don’t shut it down before it can even get started,” he added. 

_Thwack_. 

“Unless you actually _like_ takin’ all those extra-long showers…” 

Bucky gave him a look that essentially said, ‘ _Oh no you didn’t_ ,’ and then hurled the medicine ball with such force that Steve instinctively ducked, and the ball slammed through the huge wall of glass windows twenty feet behind him, shattering them spectacularly and showering the gym floor with thousands of tiny shards of glass and pulverized dust. 

“Oops,” said Bucky, but he was grinning. 

“I am _not_ payin’ for that,” said Steve, and then he started laughing. 

   

<<>>

   

“Hey, guys; whatcha lookin’ at?” 

“Oh, hey, Darcy,” said Steve, shuffling the flip-book back to Barton, who tried to hide it under his sleeve. Bucky just rolled his eyes and tried not to look too awkward as he shifted over, making room for the girl to sit down next to him at their table in the cafeteria. 

“That’s not one of those flip-books, is it?” she said, and leaned forward, making grabby hands toward Barton. Bucky stifled a laugh— those idiots hadn’t fooled her for a second. 

Barton, to his credit, simply handed it over, while Steve dropped his forehead into his hand, his cheeks pinking slightly. 

“Oh,” she said, as she flipped through the well-worn book with her thumb, revealing its smutty magic. “I’ve seen this one a million times already. You gotta check out the new stuff.” 

When the guys all looked at her blankly, she said, “Series three?” 

Still nothing. She slid the little book back to Steve and said, “Talk to Michel in purchasing. He’ll hook you up.” 

“Thanks, Darce,” said Barton, giving her a grin and an eyebrow wag that Bucky felt was entirely too suggestive for comfort, and he shifted uneasily in his seat, tapping his metal fingers on the table. Darcy, for her part, just grinned saucily back at Barton, and shot him with a cute little pistol hand gesture. 

“Yeah, thanks,” said Steve, apparently recovered from the shame of having been caught actually being human, looking at dirty cartoons like everyone else in the entire goddamn compound. Bucky almost laughed at him. What a dumbass. But then Steve went on to say, “We owe you one. Maybe we could buy you a coffee?” 

“Oh,” she said, looking surprised, and a little confused. “Uh… okay? I mean, I love coffee…” 

“I mean, I got something I gotta do right now,” said Steve, standing up before Bucky could crush his foot under the table with his boot, and after Steve gave Barton a blatantly significant look, the archer stood up as well. 

“Yeah, me too,” said Barton, and almost started laughing, and then the two of them hightailed it out of there like a couple of idiots. Assholes thought they were so clever. 

“Sorry about those jerks,” said Bucky, risking a glance at the girl next to him, and then to his horror he felt his own face heating up a little as he soldiered forward to say, “but, uh… if you’d want to get a coffee, I uh… I could…” 

“Oh,” she said again, with that same sound of surprise, and his heart fell a little, but then she quickly followed up with, “I wish I could, but I have to get back to Jane by twelve-thirty or she’s gonna freak out. She needs me to write down the coordinates for a bunch of shit while she reads them out to me. I don’t know why she doesn’t just use a speech-to-text app like everyone else on the planet…” 

It was the most she’d ever said to him— just him— and he was smiling at her like a dumbass, as though she’d just said something really funny or entertaining, instead of just reporting the mundane details of her work duties, and he was sure she was going to follow it up with some exit strategy to get away from him, but then she said, “But I’m free around this time tomorrow…” 

He was speechless for a second, and she filled the space with some uncertainty of her own. 

“I mean, if you want to…” 

“Yeah,” he said, too loudly, before he could fuck it up any more. “Yeah,” he repeated, in a more normal voice. “Uh… you wanna meet by the coffee cart?” She was already smiling, and he quickly added, “The one by administration; not the one up on three.” 

“Good choice,” she said, quirking one of her eyebrows. “Three doesn’t stock the scones with the orange glaze.” 

He grinned, biting his lower lip for a second, and he caught her eye following the motion, and something unfurled in his gut, like the tingle of a memory, a warmth that spread through his limbs like liquid, and he had about a second to think, _Jesus, get a hold of yourself_ , before he did something stupid; he had the feeling he was about two seconds away from giggling like a schoolgirl, in the middle of the crowded cafeteria… 

“So anyway,” she said, and she was pushing up from her seat now, and he stood up too, remembering his manners, and then she was smiling more shyly at him, having to look up now, as he towered over her. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then. Twelve-thirty okay?” 

“Yeah,” he said. “That’s fine.” 

“Okay,” she said, and then gave him one more grin before swiveling around with a “See ya,” and then hurried off, back to her duties. 

As soon as she was gone, Bucky blew out the breath he’d been holding, and then glanced at the group of guys at the table next to him, and he didn’t miss the smirks on some of their faces as they quickly looked away from his glare. 

“Assholes,” he muttered, as he stomped out of the room. “M’surrounded by a bunch’a assholes.” 

   

<<>>

   

_Bucky:   I dont think I can do this_  
    

_Steve:   Whats up? u gettin cold feet?_  
    

_Bucky:   I cant figure out what to wear_  
    

_Steve:   I’ll be back in 5 min_  
    

When Steve walked into the room that he and Bucky shared at the compound, he immediately got a case of serious déjà vu— there were piles of clothes strewn all over the back of the couch, and he could hear the sound of Bucky pacing in the bathroom, muttering to himself. 

“Jesus,” said Steve out loud. “It’s just like old times.” 

“I look like an asshole,” said Bucky, emerging from the bathroom, looking weird and wrong in some flat-front pants and a short-sleeved button-down shirt that Steve hadn’t even known the guy owned. 

How many times had he done this, back when? Watched Bucky pace around, ripping through his wardrobe, getting ready for a date. It’d been so long since he’d done it, he’d almost forgotten about it— how much of a routine it’d been. Fussing over his clothes, fixing his hair… 

He glanced up at Bucky’s hair now— it was just his regular hair, long and loose and a little unkempt, like he kept it now, unless they were in the field, when he’d tie it back. And that was a pretty big sign right there, that this wasn’t the same Bucky as before; he'd barely run a comb through it— though clearly some part of him was trying to do what he'd done before— thought it was a requirement. 

“I wouldn’t say an _asshole_ , but…” 

“But what?” pressed Bucky, already working the buttons on the shirt, needing to rip it off. 

“Well, it doesn’t seem… _you_ ,” said Steve, gesturing to the stiff-looking pants and shirt. 

“Don’t _feel_ like me, neither,” said Bucky, as he pulled the shirt off and threw it onto the pile on the couch. 

“It’s just coffee, Buck,” said Steve, gently. “You don’t need to dress up or nothin’.” 

Bucky sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Yeah, I know. Don’t know why I’m doin’ this.” 

“Doin’ it— you mean emptying your closet? Or goin’ on the date…” 

Bucky huffed a laugh and said, “Well, I was gonna say the clothes… but now that you mention it…”

“Hey, hey…” said Steve, and he actually went up to his friend, put his hand on his shoulder. Bucky still flinched away from casual touch like that sometimes, but this time he just sighed again and shook his head. 

“Just be yourself,” said Steve. “That’s who she was flirtin’ with. Right?” 

“Yeah,” said Bucky, but he sounded tired. “Maybe.” 

   

<<>>

   

He wound up being fifteen minutes late after finally settling on some clean jeans and a black V-neck T-shirt, but she wasn’t even there yet. Or maybe, he thought, with a sinking feeling, she’d already been there, waited around, figured he’d stood her up, and got the heck out. 

He didn’t know what else to do, so he sat down at one of the little tables anyway, and waited, his body vibrating with nerves, his leg bouncing under the table as he fidgeted with the case on his phone, which he’d laid on the table face-down. 

He was about to stand up and leave, to flee back to his room and curse himself an idiot, when suddenly she was there, breathing heavily like she’d been running. She collapsed into the chair across from him, slamming down her own phone and a little zippered pocketbook with jangly keys attached to it, and started talking immediately. 

“Holy shit,” she said, panting. “I’m so fucking sorry I’m late. I’m so glad you waited. Did you order yet?” She stood up again then, and said, “What can I get you?” 

He was flustered, feeling like it was all wrong, like he shouldn’t be sitting down while she was standing, and _he_ should be the one ordering, but something about her just made him fall into line, and he said, “Just a coffee, I guess. Black.” 

“Cool beans,” she said, and grabbed the little pocketbook off the table, leaving her phone there while she got into line. 

There were a number of other tables in the little open seating area by the cart, mostly filled by solo workers on a break, sipping at their beverages while they stared at the screens of their phones. The woman at the table next to him glanced at him, and then quickly looked away. He was feeling somehow exposed, even in this casual setting, and he took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. 

Darcy was back within a few minutes, and she carefully set down their two drinks— another mega iced-coffee for her, in a giant plastic cup, and a steaming cup of black coffee for him, in the standard to-go cup with the little cardboard sleeve to keep your hand from burning. He smiled at it— he never put one on when he was getting his own coffee; he didn’t need it. 

He couldn’t look at her, and his leg was still jiggling, and she took a long sip of her drink and then she said, all at once, “Do I make you nervous?” 

“No,” he said immediately, and then, “I mean, yes. Not _you_ , but— I mean, I haven’t done this in a long time.” _Jesus, shut up, ya fuckin’ idiot_. 

“What, get coffee?” She was teasing him, but her smile made him feel better, nonetheless. “Sorry,” she said then, “I mean, I’m super flattered, though. Hot potato like you, I figured I must be way down on the list you’re workin’ through.” 

“First one,” he admitted, too quickly, and then added, making eye-contact finally, “And there ain’t no list.” 

She looked a little flustered by that, and he wasn’t sure if it was in a good way or a bad way, and he looked around again, feeling like people were staring at them, wondering, _what’s a nice girl like her doing with the Winter Soldier?_

He looked down at his coffee. The leg started to jiggle again. 

“Hey, you wanna go for a walk?” she said. 

“Uh, sure,” he said, and she immediately stood up, shoved her phone into her pocket, grabbed the little pocketbook with the keys, and then the big coffee with her other hand. 

“Cool,” she said. “Let’s get out of here.” 

   

<<>>

   

It was a gorgeous spring day, one of the first really warm ones, and he felt better as soon as they got outside, walking easily side-by-side as they sipped their drinks. He’d been joking to Steve about walking around the racing track, but that’s exactly what they wound up doing, because it was mid-day, not morning, so nobody else was using it, all of the recruits either at lunch or heading down to the gun-range by now. 

He was pretty quiet at first, but she was so easy to talk to that before long they were chatting each other up, making each other laugh, sharing their various anecdotes and one-upping each other with humored bullshittery, and he got so comfortable that he almost didn’t recognize himself. 

Far too soon, it was time to go back, and he felt it like a bitter pang, and he wished he could just fuck off the rest of his responsibilities for the day and keep on talking to Darcy. He felt like he could have talked to her for six more hours and not been bored. He would have actually suggested it, if he’d had the afternoon off, but she had her own stuff to do anyway, and he didn’t want to seem too desperate. 

He insisted on walking her back to her door, even though she was perfectly safe within the compound— no hooligans to protect her from here; or if there were, she was apparently more than capable of handling them herself. It still seemed like the right thing to do— the proper thing, if he’d been walking her home from a real date in the city— or maybe it was just what he _wanted_ to do. It’d been so fucking long since he’d walked a girl home, and even if she didn’t want to see him again, he wanted to savor the experience while he could… 

Now she was leaning up against the closed door of her room, and she hadn’t made any move to unlock it, or to send him away, and suddenly he was nervous all over again, unable to read the situation, not knowing what she wanted, what he was supposed to do… 

“Whattsa matter, big guy,” she said then, and she snaked out a finger to draw a little circle on his chest with it, and it felt like electricity through his T-shirt… “Been a while since you kissed a girl too?” 

And _Jesus Christ_ , because he wanted to, but… _God_ , he didn’t want to fuck this up. He couldn’t even believe she’d said it— that she wanted him to. 

“That’s part of it, yeah,” he admitted finally, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“What’s the other part?” she asked, and now she’d reached down to pick up his hand, and it was the metal one, and she threaded her fingers into it as casually as if it were just any old, ordinary hand… 

“Well,” he said, and he was kinda joking now, trying to find a way to lighten the mood, because if he didn’t, his heart was going to bust straight out of his chest in about another minute. “Don’t wanna come on too strong… I heard about what you did to Hammond,” he said. “I mean, I’m sure that knucklehead had it comin’…” 

“Damn right he did,” she said. “Asshole thought that taking me to the Pizza Shack meant he also bought a ticket to pussy town.” 

And that did it; he burst out laughing, and it felt so good… and she was laughing with him, and squeezing his hand… 

But even as he was laughing about it, he was also thinking, _Yeah, and how are you any better, asshole; your dick is like a fuckin’ steel rod already, just thinkin’ about kissin’ the girl… Jesus, what a cad…_

And she must’ve picked up on some of that self-deprecation, misread it for reluctance, because she said, “I mean, you don’t _have_ to—” 

But before she could finish the thought, he’d found his courage, or maybe he just lost the will to keep holding back, because then he was moving in, his flesh hand snaking around the back of her neck as he leaned down and touched his lips to hers, and it was just a little brush at first, panicking after the first little spark of contact, heart pounding, and he was holding there, afraid to go all-in, but just as afraid to step back, and finally she decided for him, tilting her head up to capture his upper lip between both of hers, pillowy soft, and he felt it all the way down to his toes...

She smelled good... like something his Nana used to make for the holidays, another lifetime ago, vanilla and almond and spice, and he could taste that caramel from her drink, and though he didn’t think his dick could get any harder, it sure was trying, and he widened his stance and kissed her back, and she’d not only dropped his hand, but also her little pocketbook, the keys jangling as they hit the floor, and she pressed both her palms against his chest, feeling him through the shirt, and it felt so good that he made a little noise, and then he kissed her, and kissed her and kissed her…

Finally she broke away, looking down, needing to breathe, and they were both panting a little, and he pulled his lips in a bit, tasting her on him, and he heard her whisper, “ _Wow_ ,” which was pretty much the same thing he was thinking, and it made him smile a little, in a sleepy kind of way, like she’d drugged him… 

She’d turned around, unlocked the electronic lock on the door— now that he was thinking about it, he wondered what the jangly keys she carried around were for— maybe something in the lab… and why was he even thinking about that right now? She’d scrambled his brain…

He was watching her, his eyes roving all over the different parts of her— the long, wavy hair, the shapely curves of her body, the big blue eyes and _God_ , that smile— all the lovely little pieces that made up the whole that'd caught his eye, hitting him out of nowhere one day with such force that he'd wondered if he'd been half-asleep before, to not notice the glow she emitted without even trying... 

“You wanna come in?” she asked quietly, and he shut his eyes for a moment, because he did, he really, really did… but… 

She’d bent down to pick up the little pocketbook she’d dropped on the floor, and when she stood back up, he said, “Don’t you gotta be somewhere soon?” Even as he said it, he was hoping she wouldn’t take it as a rejection, to think that he didn’t even _want_ to… 

She breathed a little laugh and looked up at him through her eyelashes and said, “Well, yeah… but I was thinking of maybe just saying ‘fuck it,’ and hanging out with you instead…” 

And _Jesus_ , but he wanted to— hadn't he just been thinking the exact same thing? And it was making it hard to breathe, to think that she wanted that too— to blow off whatever she was supposed to be doing, just to spend more time with _him_ … it was a little dizzying...

What he wound up saying instead was, “I don’t wanna… I mean I _do_ , but…” He took another breath, trying to get a grip so he wouldn’t sound like such a dumbass. “This is gonna sound stupid, but… I wanna do this right.” 

And he was afraid to look at her, afraid he’d made a mistake, taken the path that would lead away from her instead of circling back around, but she stood up on her tippy-toes and kissed him again, just a short, soft one, and then she smiled and said, “It’s not stupid. It’s nice.” 

And then she pulled her phone out of her back pocket, and clicked it on, scrolled and swiped through some screens. “Gimme your number,” she said. “I shoulda gotten it yesterday; then I wouldn’t have freaked today when I was late, thinking you wouldn’t wanna wait around for me.” 

He gave it to her, and she texted him right away so that he’d have hers, and he was already wondering how long he’d have to wait to text her without coming off like some kind of desperate creep, when she just out and said, “Let’s do this again tomorrow. I mean, if you’re free.” 

And he smiled and said, “Yeah, I’m free.” 

“Good,” she said, and then she gave him one more kiss for the road and said, “See ya tomorrow, handsome,” before disappearing inside and shutting the door. 

   

<<>>

   

_James:   God I'm so sorry but I wont be able to_  
_have coffee today after all._

_Got called away_

_Don't know when I'll be back or if I'll_  
_be able to text again_  
   

_Darcy:   It's okay_

             _I had a great time yesterday just so_  
_you know_  
    

_James:   Me too_  
    

_Darcy:   Let me know when you get back_  
    

_James:   Sure thing doll_

   

<<>>

   

_James:  Gonna be longer than I thought_  
    

_Darcy:   Darn_  
    

_James:   You don't have to wait_  
    

_Darcy:   What's it been, 4 days?_

_Remember u said there's no list? Well_  
_I don't have one either_

_Ur name doesn't expire at midnight on_  
_the 3rd day or anything_

_We're having coffee when u get back_

_And maybe more kissing_

_Okay definitely more kissing_  
   

_James:   Lookin forward to that_

_Fuck I better go_

 _Don't wanna run the battery down_  
   

_Darcy:   Where are u anyway?_

 _I mean if u can say_  
   

_James:   Under a tarp_

_Rain comin down_

_Bugs crawlin all over me_  
    

_Darcy:   LOL sounds awesome_

 _But hey at least u got cell service_  
    

_James:   For now_  
    

_Darcy:   Well be careful_

 _Don't want anything harming that_  
_gorgeous ass_  
   

      …  
   

_Darcy:   I'm sorry did I freak you out?_

_Didn't mean to be crude_

_I mean I am_

_Crude_

_That's me_  
   

_James:   Doll stop_

_You're fine_

_Just didn't know how to respond_

_Anyway if either of us got a gorgeous_  
_ass it's you_  
    

_Darcy:   Oh yeah?_  
    

_James:   I know you saw me lookin_  
    

_Darcy:   Ha maybe_  
    

_James:   Shit I really gotta go_

_At 8 percent_

_Gotta save it til I can plug in again._

_Sorry doll_

 _Wish I could keep talkin to you_  
    

_Darcy:   Be careful_

_And call me when u get back_

_I'll be here_  
    

She added a smooch face at the end, and he responded with the distraught emoji, which she was taking to mean that she was killing him, not being able to smooch in person. And she felt the same way, but rather than looking distraught, her face had melted into a dopey grin by the time Jane walked by on the way back to her desk. 

“Oh boy,” she said, shaking her head at Darcy’s lovesick countenance. “If you’re like this after only one coffee date and a couple of kisses… you are in big trouble.” 

“They were good kisses, Janey. Really good kisses. And remember how I said you’d be singing a different tune when I actually got all goopy and annoying? And anyway, you are way worse whenever Thor comes back.” 

“I am not,” said Jane, sounding offended. 

Darcy put the phone down finally. “How many times did I have to listen to you being ravished in the supply closet, because you guys couldn't take the five minutes to make it down to residential? I've paid my dues, Janey. And now you’re gonna have to put up with my derpy love face.” 

“Ok, fine,” said Jane, conceding. “But don’t knock the supply closet. That table in there is _sturdy_.” 

“Eww. I so did _not_ need to hear that. It was better when it was all... vague..." 

“But you like him, huh?” said Jane, finally serious. “I mean, for more than just a fling?” 

“Yeah,” said Darcy. “I mean, I wouldn’t say ‘no’ to a fling, if that’s all he can…” 

Jane was just watching her, waiting. 

“Okay, yeah,” she said then, admitting it. “I like him.” And then the dopey smile came back, and she picked up her phone again, to re-read the text conversation for the fourth time. 

“Oh boy,” said Jane. 

   

<<>>

   

By the seventh day, she’d resorted to reading porn on her phone in bed, and then giving up even on that, just putting the phone down so that she could touch herself while she thought about James. She’d almost gotten herself off when the phone chirped, announcing an incoming text, and she scrambled to flip over and pick up the phone again.  
    

_James:   You up?_  
    

_Darcy:   Hey you_

 _How's the mission going_  
    

_James:   It's going_

 _Hit a little snag with some bad intel_  
_but I think we got it worked out_  
    

_Darcy:   Good to hear_  
    

_James:   What you doin up so late_  
    

_Darcy:   Couldn’t sleep_  
    

_James:   You just lyin there?_  
    

_Darcy:   Truth?_  
    

_James:   Always_  
    

_Darcy:   I was reading porn on my phone and_  
    

_James:   Lol and what_  
    

_Darcy:   And then I put the phone down and_  
_started thinking about u instead_  
    

      …  
   

_Darcy:   U still there?_  
    

_James:   Yeah_

_Just tryin to think what to say_

_You tellin the truth?_

_Or you just tryin to rile me up_  
    

_Darcy:   Is it working?_  
    

_James:   Maybe_  
    

_Darcy:   And yeah I was telling the truth_

_What do you do when you can't sleep_  
    

There was a long pause, but she could see the bubble there, indicating that he was typing.  
    

_James:   Write down what's goin on in my head_

_Take a shower_

_Sometimes I just lie there thinkin_  
_about everything_  
   

_Darcy:   Sounds lonely_

 _Maybe I should send u some of these_  
_dirty stories_  
    

_James:   Nah_

_Probably get too distracted lol_

_Gotta stay sharp_  
    

_Darcy:   Come back home_

 _I'll help keep you sharp_  
    

She added three winking emojis after that one, and he almost immediately sent back a nerd-face emoji, and she laughed out loud. She wanted to tell him how much she missed him, but it seemed weird— like Jane said, they’d only had one coffee date and a couple of kisses, but… it seemed like so much more already. She didn’t want to scare him. They’d mostly just joked around so far, kept it light.  
    

_James:   You still there?_  
    

_Darcy:   Yeah just thinking_  
    

_James:   Bout what_  
    

She sighed out loud, thumbs hovering over the keys, and then committed, typing it out and sending it before she could change her mind.  
   

_Darcy:   I miss you_  
    

She could see the bubble there, and then it vanished, but no text popped up, like he’d typed something but deleted it before sending. Then it happened again, and then again, one more time. Finally, a text came through:  
    

_James:   I miss you too doll_  
    

She sat there, thumbs poised again, not knowing what to say after that, and maybe he was doing the same, because it was quiet on his end too. Finally she saw the bubble that he was typing again, and a new text came in.  
    

_James:   God it’s fuckin boring here_

_Won't say I wish you were here though_

_We’re in some kinda bunker_

_Smells like shit_  
   

_Darcy:   Wish I could teleport u here instead_  
    

      …  
   

      …  
   

_Darcy:   U there?_

_James? u ok?_  
   

_James:   Gotta go… somethin goin on_  
    

_Darcy:   Shit_

_Text me when u can_

_Lemme know ur ok_  
   

She waited, but no further texts came through, and finally she plugged her phone in, rolled over in bed, and tried to sleep. 

   

<<>>

   

“What’s wrong?” It was 3 p.m. and Jane was finally shuffling into the lab— no doubt she’d been up all night and had gone to bed sometime shortly after dawn, as she’d done for the past few days. 

“You look like hell,” she added, as she took in Darcy’s disheveled appearance. That was saying a lot, considering how messed-up Jane looked herself. 

Darcy slammed her phone down on the desk; she’d just checked messages again for the two hundredth time, even though she knew nothing new had come in. 

It’d been two days since he’d last texted her, and she’d been worried sick the entire time. She’d tried to ask through official channels, but all she’d been told was that the mission was classified, and that they couldn’t tell someone with her clearance level anything further. She also got the impression that he probably wasn’t supposed to be texting her, so she didn’t go into details about why she was so concerned in the first place. 

“I haven’t gotten any real sleep since Tuesday,” said Darcy. “I’m so fucking worried. What if something terrible happened?” 

“Huh?” said Jane, looking thoroughly confused. “They got back this morning.” 

“What?” said Darcy, raising her head from the desk. 

“Yeah, I thought you knew. I was up in the big break room stealing Pop Tarts when Barton and Sam shambled in like a couple of zombies, moaning for coffee. That must’ve been… oh, I don’t know… seven? Darcy?” 

Darcy had missed the entire explanation, having only processed the part about ‘ _back this morning_ ,’ and had stood up, shoved her phone into her back pocket, and hightailed it out of there. 

She obviously hadn’t been to his and Steve’s room before, but she knew where it was, having done a fair amount of research while he was gone, just to kill time (or so she’d told herself). She was just rounding the corner to the correct hallway when she slammed into Steve, who put his hands on her shoulders, steadying her. He was holding a paperback book, and looked completely exhausted. 

“Oh, hey, Darcy,” he said, and then his face crumpled. “Aw, shit— I was supposed to text you and let you know.” 

“Let me know what?” She was on the verge of panicking. 

“His phone got crushed when the building came down.” 

“What?!? A fucking building fell on him? Is he okay? Why didn’t anyone—” She was pushing against him, trying to get past him, to the room. 

“Sorry,” said Steve. “My fault. He asked me to tell you—” 

“Jesus Christ, Steve— just give it to me straight: is he all right? Where is he?!?” 

“He’s fine,” he assured her, and she relaxed a fraction, stopped her futile attempt to push around him. “He’s in medical; he has a concussion so they wanted to keep him there for a few more hours. I was just heading down there with a book… Do you maybe… you wanna take it? I could sure use some rest…” 

“I can do that,” she said, holding out her hand for the book. 

She’d already spun around, heading back toward the stairwell, not even wanting to wait for the elevator, when Steve said, “Hey, Darcy?” 

She stopped, turned. “Huh?” 

“He uh… he likes you, you know. A lot.” 

She grinned, unable to help it. “The feeling’s mutual.” 

   

<<>>

   

He looked vulnerable, lying there asleep. He had cuts and bruises all over him, but they looked like they were a week old, not just a couple of days, and she knew that was his accelerated healing at work. There was one larger gauze pad taped to his forehead, maybe bandaging the concussive wound. She wanted to pick up his hand, but didn’t want to wake him if he was actually getting some rest. 

She pulled up a chair and sat down, and finally took a look at the book Steve had given her. She was going to start reading it, when she heard an intake of breath, and looked up to see his sleepy face gazing at her, complete with a lazy little smile that was instantly and utterly contagious. 

“Ain’t you a sight for sore eyes,” he said, his voice rumbly, like he hadn’t used it in a while. 

“Hey you,” she said. Her eyes flicked up to the bandage on his forehead. “Does it hurt?” 

“Nah,” he said, and he sat up a little, did a half back-twist. “Lyin’ in this fuckin’ torture bed is doin’ me more harm than any conk on the head." He reached up and peeled off the bandage, felt at his skin with his fingers. “Seems all right,” he said. “How’s it look?” 

She stood from the chair, shifted her butt over to sit on his bedside instead, and then leaned in to touch the spot with her own fingers. “Like nothing happened. Just a little bruising.” 

She retracted her hand then, and just looked at his face, feeling like it already belonged to her somehow. She wanted to kiss him. 

“We could sneak out,” she said. “I happen to know where there’s a bed a lot more comfy than this one.” 

He swallowed visibly, but didn’t break eye contact. “You invitin’ me to your bed?” 

“Maybe. What would you say if I was?” 

His face got a little more serious then, like he was worried. “You sure you know what you’re doin’? Gettin’ mixed up with me?” 

She picked up his flesh hand and felt his fingers, the rough callouses on their tips, and said, “I did my research, yeah.” 

If anything, he just looked more worried, even as his hand clasped around hers, holding it. “Yeah? What’d you find out.” 

“Well… for starters, I found out that nobody calls you ‘ _James_ ’— it’s Barnes, or Bucky, and only people in your inner circle get to call you Bucky, which I guess means only Steve does, and you should’ve told me, because now I feel like a dumbass, calling you _James_ all the time, even when I was touching myself…” 

And his eyelids got just the slightest bit hooded at that remark, but she barreled on, still holding his hand, looking down at it at times, while at others she raised her eyes up to look into the sparkling grey-blue of his, which never left her face… 

“And I know you used to like jam on your toast, before the war, but now you like peanut butter, but only if it’s super-chunk; and that you like your coffee black or not at all; and you’re a briefs guy, but they have to be boxer-briefs; and your favorite color is blue; and you kicked some guy’s ass on the training yard last month for saying a racial slur to one of the recruits; and you take really good care of your gear— like, it’s super important to you… oh, and I totally know that you’re the one who sent me the crate of Cheetos that showed up yesterday, even though there was no gift card.” 

She looked down at the book she was still holding in her left hand and said, “Oh, and last but not least, you’re a total dork who reads sci-novels. That’s a compliment, by the way.” She met his eyes again. “So yeah. I think that about covers all the important stuff.” 

He just looked at her for a minute, just breathing and watching her, and she was still holding his flesh hand, so he reached out with the metal one to brush a lock of hair away from her face, and he licked his lips and said, with a totally straight face, “Those Cheetos took long enough to show up. I ordered those over a week ago, before I got called away. I should complain.” 

She was trying not to smile, playing along, pretending to be serious, and she said, “So, Barnes, what do you think?” 

And he leaned into her then, and kissed her, long and sweet, and when he pulled away to take a breath, he said, “I think you should start callin’ me Bucky.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> [my Tumblr](https://sarahbeniel.tumblr.com)   
> 


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